But it was hopelessly hard to put. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. . CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. He returned, \"Can I walk you home then?\" She was completely taken aback and did her best not to show it. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered.
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